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Updated: June 1, 2025
"Keep an eye on that thar valley man, an' find out all 'bout'n him. Else the killin' 'll be laid ter Con, who never done nuthin' hurtful ter nobody in all his life." "The idee jes' streck me ter-day whenst I viewed him along about that road. Whenst that thar dead man tuk yer han' an' tried ter find a word of speech Why, hullo, Narcissa!" With a short cry she had struggled to her feet.
As they were driving through the grove before reaching the house it was quite dark, and they heard an owl hooting in one of the trees. "I see yer keep on sayin' yer sass," said Daddy Jake, addressing the owl. "Ef'n I'd er done happen ter all you is 'bout'n hit, I'd let hit erlone myse'f." "What's he sayin'?" asked Diddie. "Wy, don't yer hyear him, honey, er sayin', 'Who cooks fur you-oo-a?
"Now you chil'en look er hyear," said the old man; "I ain't gwine ter tell yer all I know 'bout'n de rattlesnake; dar's some things fur ter tell, and den ergin dar's some things fur ter keep ter yerse'f; an' wat dey is twix' me an' de rattlesnake, hit's des twix' me'n him; an' you ain't de fust ones wat want ter know an' couldn't.
"Laws-a-massy, child, ef ye would jes hev b'lieved me 'bout'n them Kittredges Abs'lom in partic'lar ye'd be happy an' free now," said the old man, his imagination somewhat extending his experience, for he had had no knowledge of his son-in-law until their relationship began. The evening wore drearily on.
And Rufe crouched over, shivering in every limb, in equally excellent mimicry of a ghost-seer, or an unwilling chip-picker under stress of weather. "My!" he exclaimed with a fresh burst of laughter; "whenst Tom tole me 'bout'n it I war so tickled I war feared I'd fall. I los' the use o' my tongue. I couldn't stop laffin' long enough ter tell Tom what I war laffin' at.
Didn't yer hyear wat he said 'bout'n de snakes' an' de folks all sez ez how ole Daddy is er trick nigger, an' dat's wat makes him don't die." "Well, I wish I was a trick nigger, then," remarked Dumps, gravely. "Lordy, Miss Dumps, yer'd better not be er talkin' like dat," said Dilsey, her eyes open wide in horror. "Hit's pow'ful wicked ter be trick niggers."
"Mirandy," said Jonas Creyshaw in a whisper, "'pears like ter me ez father hed better not be let ter know 'bout'n that thar harnt. It mought skeer him so ez he couldn't live another minit. He hev aged some lately an' he air weakly." This was "Old Daddy." Before he had reached his thirtieth year, he was thus known, far and wide.
"An' the great seal o' the State!" "Whar be the land?" gasped Birt, possessed by a dreadful fear. His face was white, its muscles rigid. Its altered expression could not for an instant have escaped the notice of Timothy's brother Nathan. "Why, it lays bout'n haffen mile off all down the ravine nigh that thar salt-lick; but look-a-hyar, Birt what ails ye?"
"He air the man ez hev got a son," the mountaineers used to say in grinning explanation. "Ter hear him brag 'bout'n that thar boy o' his'n, ye'd think he war the only man in Tennessee ez ever hed a son." Throughout all these years the name given in jocose banter had clung to him, and now, hallowed by ancient usage, it was accorded to him seriously, and had all the sonorous effect of a title.
Ter hear ye a-jowin', a-body would think I had never shot nothin' likelier'n a yaller-hammer sence I been born. S'pos'n ye jes' takes ter goin' a-huntin', an' skinnin' deer, an' cuttin' wood, an' doin' my work ginerally. Pears-like ye think ye knows mo' 'bout'n my work'n I does. An' I'll bide hyar at the house." Mrs. Griggs nodded her head capably, in nowise dismayed.
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